A House in the Country
by darthsydious
Summary: Victorian!lock. Country life is supposed to be peaceful. Who would have assumed Sherlock Holmes would take up residence on a farm? Sherlolly, Warstan, Mythea if you squint.


"Father, why are we moving to the country?" Sherlock Holmes looked down to his eldest son, Nicholas ( who was all of eight and far too much like his father for his own good).

"Because your mother wishes it." That was the simple reply. Sherlock Holmes did not quite have London out of his system yet, but Molly had had quite enough of the dirt and grime, the smoke and awful living conditions only two streets over from Baker Street. Besides which, Mrs. Hudson was retiring, and Baker Street was nearly full to capacity now that the Holmes' family was expanding. A modest country home was just what they needed. Especially Molly. This last pregnancy was especially hard on her, and Watson had put it quite bluntly that while Molly was a terribly strong woman, a good long respite from work and city life was just what she needed or her health would not improve and they would risk losing the baby. St. Barts would indeed be losing its greatest pathologist, and she was very sorry to leave, but the children were their first priority, and while she was no longer held back by pride (at this particular moment) the idea of an idyllic country setting to raise the children sparked her romantic side. Sherlock proclaimed it lunacy to move so near her confinement, but Molly wished it. Frankly, Sherlock had stopped trying to convince her against her opinion while she was pregnant, so he set out in search of a suitable home large enough for the Holmes family.

The carriage came to a stop and the driver jumped down, opening the door and reaching for the children to help them down while Molly remained, gobsmacked, where she sat, hand over her swollen belly.

"Sherlock, you did say modest…" she finally said. He paused in minding how Nicholas helped his sisters and brother down.

"I did, why? Don't you like it?" He watched her expression carefully. Molly took in the beautiful three story cottage, roses growing up the walls. Neatly trimmed hedges lined the walkway, and she could see a white-washed gate around the side, fresh-tilled earth just barely in her view, probably a kitchen garden. Almost twelve acres Sherlock had purchased, and Molly was delighted to find that he had bought a little farm.

"It's lovely," she murmured, tears brimming in her eyes. Blast her wretched moods! She took her husband's hand, and his other arm came around her waist, helping her down. Nicholas came hurrying back, the twins in tow.

"Mother, mother there's a kitchen garden, and pigs! There's pigs and geese and chickens!"

"Is that all?" Sherlock asked mysteriously. The children all stopped skipping and jumping, listening to the tone of their father. He looked at Molly, who was also studying him. Smiling, he nodded toward the house. "Go and see what's waiting in the parlor with your Aunt Mary."

"Is your brother coming?" Molly asked as the children all went scurrying into the house.

"In a day or so, he and my sister in-law wanted to give us time to settle in."

Following the noise of the children's merry voices, they found in the parlor John and Mary Watson. Emmeline Watson sat on her mother's lap, happily gnawing on her fist, watching with delighted eyes as the Holmes children all leapt to their feet upon sight of their mother.  
"Mother, mother look, look what Uncle John gave us!" There on the rug by the fireplace lay a fawn colored Staffordshire Bull Terrier, quite content among the four children climbing up and around it. There was a mischievous twinkle in Watson's eyes.

"The family next door to us had two of them, and decided they only wanted one," Watson explained. "They heard friends of ours were moving to the country and um…asked if they wanted a nice dog."

"It was fortuitous," Sherlock agreed, turning to Molly. "And besides, the children have wanted a pet." Molly looked at the dog and then at her husband.

"I suppose it will be good for them," she murmured.

"And you," he said. "If I'm away on a case, it will be good to have a dog around." Molly nodded, finally smiling and the children all gleefully clapped and danced, knowing their mother would let the dog stay.

"Lucie, you and Edgar help Aunt Mary," Molly said, letting Sherlock help her sit down. The twins got up obediently, following Mary Watson through to the kitchen to prepare tea. "Nicholas, you and Lavender go into the pantry, find an old bowl or a dish, the dog will need water with all the running around he'll be doing."

The Watson's stayed for tea, and after Sherlock showed his oldest friend around the estate.

"There's a man, Wiggins, who tends the livestock, and his wife cleans and cooks. They stay at the house on the edge of the land," Sherlock pointed to the cottage at the far end of the land. "There's maid coming to help, she arrives tomorrow," Sherlock went on. "She'll stay in the attic, it's a generous space and I've seen to it a stove has been put in. Ridiculous thing, but I suppose I can't have her freezing, and it's far cheaper than putting in a fireplace." Watson chuckled and Sherlock looked at him, confused.

"I never took you for country life, Holmes," Watson said, admiring the small orchard. Nearby there was the gentle hum of bees, eight hives were set up on the edge of the flowering trees. Behind the house, fenced in, pigs grunted and lazed about, geese and chickens pecked and waddled freely, kept well away from the kitchen garden.

"I don't look after the farm animals," Sherlock replied, wrinkling his nose. " _I_ tend the hives."

"Still, you live on a farm," Watson said. "It's quite pleasant."

"Molly likes it," Sherlock replied. "And the air is cleaner here. She'll be able to rest properly. I understand gardening is terrifically good for one's health."

"Just what she needs," John nodded.

"You did say quiet country life. I expect my brother thought I should buy a proper estate."

"There's a laugh," John chortled. "You in a big house."

"If Molly wanted it, I would have. She told me a simple country house would do, and this seemed to meet what she required. There is a kitchen garden and a front garden. And plenty of room for the children, in the house and outside."

"You did very well," Watson praised.

Slowly they made their way back across the land.

"What about cases?"

"Oh naturally I'll still take them when Scotland Yard needs me. I expect Lestrade will be requiring my services. But I am quite settled here for now. There is a woodshed I shall convert as my laboratory, and the bees will keep me occupied."

"Hm." Watson was quiet again for a moment. "London won't seem like London without Sherlock Holmes on Baker Street."

"Don't be ridiculous Watson," he replied gruffly. Holmes had lived on Baker Street for as long as Watson could remember. It just didn't seem right. But then, seeing Sherlock here in the country, so pleased with his surroundings, with his wife and children (blimey, that was another thought entirely) Watson knew Holmes would be perfectly fine. He looked up at the sky, and then tugged out his pocket watch.

"Mary and I had best be getting back, trains are always hell this time of day."

Mary was already putting on her hat by the time they got back.

"I hope you'll come on weekends," Molly said. "Please do, there's plenty of room."

"I'm sure we'd love to," Mary answered, then seeing her husband, smiled. "We've been invited for the weekends." Emmeline tugged at her bonnet, fussing. John smiled in agreement, finding the idea very pleasant. He picked Emmeline up and pressed her rosy cheeks. "Say goodbye to Aunt Molly," he said and Emmeline opened and closed her hand, fat tears still rolling down her cheeks. Goodbyes were exchanged, the children lined up to kiss Uncle John and Aunt Mary goodbye and thank them for the dog.

Hands and faces washed, Sherlock watched as Molly went first into the girls' room to tuck them in, and then across the hall to the boys'. As the children grew they would have their own rooms, for now, all were young enough that while they knew there were no monsters in the cupboard or under the bed, there was safety in numbers. Besides, Lavender often got up in the night to comfort her sister through nightmares. The dog, which the children had decided to call 'Toby', could not decide which room to sleep in, so he settled in-between the rooms in the hallway. The children at last tucked up and well on their way to sleep, Molly let out a soft sigh, smiling as she took Sherlock's outstretched hand.

"You're tired."  
"We certainly are," she rubbed her belly soothingly, the baby within giving another kick.

"Come and sit, I'll help you change," Sherlock answered and she followed, deciding she very much wanted their bed. Out of her shoes and gown, Molly tugged her nightshift over her head and crawled under the coverlet. Sherlock, satisfied that she was settled for the night, divested himself of his own clothes, sliding in beside her.

"You're coming to bed now?" she asked, surprised. Often he helped her to bed and then went about his own business.

"There isn't much to do, it can wait until tomorrow, besides, you're tired."

"That's never stopped you before," she smiled teasingly.

"Hmm. At any rate you're very close to your confinement, and Watson has told me to keep a close eye on you."

"Don't worry, I won't be over-exerting myself, this little one has made that perfectly clear."

"Good," he leaned over, kissing her gently before reaching over and putting out the lamps. "By the by," he said, once both were settled under the covers. "John and Mary are buying the house down the lane from us."

"What?" Molly lifted her head, surprised. "He told you so?"

"No. But they will." He smiled in the dark, listening as Molly scoffed and scolded him about making choices for others without their consent. "But they will consent," Sherlock insisted. "A month or so of visits, and they'll decide it's much better for Mary and Emmeline to be here in the country, and for the baby he let slip they are trying for, and he can just as well manage a practice here, in fact he should, the doctor in the village is positively prehistoric."

"Sherlock," she laughed but pinched him just under his ribs.

"Ow! Is that so, madam? Care to make a bet?" he reached over, arms about her, leaving tickling kisses over her shoulder and neck. She burst out laughing, begging for mercy as she couldn't very well wiggle away.

"No I don't wish to make a bet, you're usually right about such things," she huffed, but Sherlock could see she was fighting back a smile.

Sure enough, a month and three weeks later, John and Mary revealed they were taken with the idea of country life.

"You know that cottage down the lane is up for sale as well?" John asked. Holmes bit back a smile as Molly made no attempt to hide her delight. There was something in her giggle that Mary Watson noticed.

"Molly, what did your husband do?" she demanded, knowing just who the cause of the laughter was.

"It isn't exactly for sale anymore," Sherlock said, keeping a straight face as he accepted the cup from Mary's hand. John looked befuddled, Mary was already beaming, having guessed what the Consulting Detective was about to say. "I've had Mycroft purchase it. You may buy it from Molly and I at your earliest convenience, and considering our friendship, I am prepared to make it a generous bargain on your behalf."

"How good of you," Watson answered, shaking his head. "Well then, what's it going to be?"

"Considering our past together, our wives friendship, and that of our children and the fact that we'll be neighbors for the indeterminate future, Molly and I discussed it, we thought a fiver would be terribly fair."

"Holmes!"

"Cash if you please. Something to put in Molly's rainy-day jar." Sherlock's grin was positively wicked. He was so very pleased with himself, and Watson didn't know what else to do.

"Oh for heaven's sake John," Mary laughed, too delighted to protest. "Pay the man and we'll have done with it." Watson pulled out his wallet, counting out the money and handed it to Holmes, who in turn passed it to Molly.

"Oh and I'm afraid you'll be delivering the baby whenever the time comes, I expect we should put this all down in writing, don't want buyers remorse now do we?" Holmes added quickly. John burst out laughing, moving to gather his wife into his arms.

"When will you move in?" Molly wanted to know

"Oh as soon as we can," John answered. "I should think it would take two weeks at the most, there's my clients to inform and movers to hire-"

"Done." Holmes answered, moving to the bookshelf. The others turned.

"What?"

"Your patients have all been informed and given information for sufficient primaries, your things are being moved as we speak, Mary may set up house at her earliest convenience."

"Sherlock!" Molly protested this time.

"What?"

"I'd scold you," she said, hand under her belly as she stood. "But I think I'd rather go to bed," all looked at her, confused and alarmed. She only smiled and laughed. "Don't think you're out of the doghouse yet, but at the moment another Holmes has just made a decision for me, and I'm afraid Doctor Watson will have to assist."

Immediately the house went into an uproar as Sherlock kissed his wife and helped her upstairs, Mary corralled the children and they went to fetch linens while Watson went about washing his hands, calling for the maid and cook to boil water and keep the children occupied.

"First day living in the country," Watson chortled as Mary passed by him, sleeves rolled up, carrying a basket of towels. "And they said it was relaxing here!"


End file.
